By Yumiko Izu
June 24, 2024
In Japanese, utsuroi refers to the gradual and inevitable transformation from one state to another. It suggests that nothing is reliable and everything is ephemeral.
Produced between spring and autumn of 2020, “Utsuroi” is a series reflecting the internal and external states experienced during the height of the pandemic, when I lived in isolation at my home in upstate New York.
With minimal outside interaction, my loneliness forced me to introspect and face my inner self.
Weighed down by the heaviness of the deaths and sorrows around the world, yet unable to do anything or go anywhere, I was engulfed by feelings of helplessness and blockage.
I found some reprieve in solitary walks down to the lake, during which I became keenly aware of the cyclical nature of the water lilies that appear year after year.
The flowers slowly begin to open at dawn, only to close up their delicate petals around noon, protecting themselves from the harshness of the sun high above. Their existence is fleeting — in bloom for a handful of hours over the course of a few days.
Come autumn, those water lilies decay and eventually disappear from view. But even in the coldest of winters when the temperature drops to -15°C, their roots continue to live far below, quietly waiting. Spring’s warmth nudges countless green leaves to the surface of the lake, and by the summer solstice, water lily buds appear once again.
This transition of time and life’s constant progression resonated deeply with me.
Compelled by this quiet persistence, I began picking some of those flowers and lily pads in the early mornings. Back in the darkroom, I used the camera-less photogram technique to catch the essence of their ephemerality.
Placing the subjects directly on a large format film of about 14 x 20 inches, the images were created through multiple exposures using several types of light. The resulting soft lines blur and bleed in a unique way that almost suggests they’ve been drawn with light.
The routine of going to the lake every morning and then focusing on the complex and time-consuming photogram process felt like a prayer, a meditation. In the darkroom, I would make a tiny adjustment to the subject, expose it, then wait. Another small movement, another stretch of stillness. Occasionally my heart rippled, seemingly in sync with the swaying objects in the work I was creating.
Through this project, I realized that every situation has meaning. Even the darkness of the COVID-19 pandemic contrarily taught me a lot. I left New York in the summer of 2021 and “Utsuroi” became the last series I made there.
The final images are a reflection of how my heart transformed throughout the course of this series and the tranquility I felt.
By September of that same year, I had started a new life in Kanazawa, a city located within Japan’s Ishikawa Prefecture. Ishikawa is the land of traditional crafts, where rich traditions and culture thrive. Surrounded by various crafts such as Wajima lacquerware, Kutani ceramics, Kanazawa metal leaves and Kaga Yuzen silk dyeing, I spend my days being inspired by them.
I have long been interested in kintsugi, and have tried many times to incorporate gold leaf into my work. In the process, I have created works using gold mud, gold leaf, and platinum leaf. I intend to continue creating new “Utsuroi” images here in Ishikawa.